The End
by Vivere Sine Timore
Summary: She'd hoped with every part of her being that he would wake up. And for a while the doctors had indulged her, telling her that there was always a chance that he would recover. And so life went on as if it hadn't changed much. T for Language.


_'He would like this room,' _she decides finally. It was very private, and filled with the things he loved most. And the people he loved most, too. Emma was sleeping on the small couch, covered by a thing hospital blanket. Chase was doing his homework in a chair nearby. Tristan was lounging in the airchair, pretending to play the drums along to whatever song he was listening to on his iPod. And Natara? She was by his bedside, holding his hand as she had been for the past few days.

She glanced back at her husband, no longer hooked up to the various machines that had been their safety net for the past thirty-seven days. He looked the same, only there was a cotton pad over the stitched up hole where his ventilator used to be. His eyes remained closed, his mouth slightly ajar.

She'd hoped with every part of her being that he would wake up. And for a while the doctors had indulged her, telling her that there was always a chance that he would recover. And so life went on as if it hadn't changed much. Emma celebrated her eighth birthday, Chase starred in his middle school's play, Tristan was sent back to his boarding school. Natara went to work without him by her side and pretended as if she was fine. Neha looked after the kids when she couldn't.

And every day, for over a month, she would come back to this small room to spend some time with him. She would hold his hand and tell him everything that would go on. Sometimes Emma would come with her, and sometimes Chase would come too. And every time she left, she would sing his favorite song to him and kiss each of his cheeks and then his lips.

And then three days ago, her world imploded. They told her that his organs were failing, that his brain activity was virtually nonexistant. They told her that it was highly unlikely that he would ever wake up, and that even if he did he would never be the same way again. Mal was gone for good.

She'd surprised Emma and Chase with an impromtu trip to pick up Tristan from his school. Summer was about to start anyway, and there were only a few days left of school. Emma and Chase were already out, so it was only fair that she bring Tristan home. Besides, he'd want to say goodbye to his father before they unhooked the machines.

They'd arrived late at night; most students were in bed, others were staying up late with their roommates. Emma had run ahead, eager to see her big brother- and knocking on a few wrong doors in her excitement. The woman guiding them had knocked on the door, and when the door opened another boy blinked sleepily down at them. His roommate told him that he'd gone out to the fields with a friend.

They heard the laughter before they saw the two boys. Next they saw the baseballs strewn everywhere, and then the two figures stumbling around, attempting to run when they saw the flashlight. One fell, and the other kept running. Natara easily recognized the boy that fell.

"Tristan!" Emma had called, running forward. "Tristan it's me! We came to pick you up!" The seventeen-year-old had stood up again, glaring coldly at his mother and then picking up his baseball bat again. He threw a ball into the air and took a wild swing at it, missing by at least a foot.

"You need to come see your dad," Natara had said quietly. Her oldest son had turned halfway to her with a drunken laugh.

"I need to come see dad?" He smiled sarcastically, took another swing at a ball, then pointed the bat in her general direction. "_Fuck _Dad."

"Watch your language around your sister!" Natara snarled.

"Or what?" Tristan laughed poisonously. "You'll do what? Shoot me? Hit me?" Natara glared at her son and he smiled back. "Thats what I thought."

Tristan had crawled out of bed around one in the afternoon the next day. Emma and Tristan were playing in the pool, and Natara dropped a bowl of cereal down in front of her son. Tristan had winced at the noise, pushing the bowl away.

"I'm not hungry."

"How are you feeling? Hungover?"

"Whatever." He'd gotten up to leave, grabbing a can of soda on his way. Natara grabbed his wrist and yanked him back, eyes blazing.

"Don't walk away from me!" she yelled.

"Fuck you!" Tristan screamed right back. "Fuck all this! This is so stupid. There's no reason for you to have brought me back! If you all hate me so much, why don't you just leave me at the school?"

"So you think there's no reason for you to be back other than so we can all yell at you? Well what about this: Your father is going to die. His organs are failing, he's basically brain-dead, and he's never going to wake up!"

They hadnt told Emma until yesterday. She had been the hardest one to tell. She was so young to lose her father like this.

Their family outing had gone so completely wrong and transformed into a nightmare. The rented speed boat had crashed and sent Mal sprawling into the water, hitting his head on the rock that they'd crashed into. There was blood, unbelievable amounts of blood, and they'd had to drive to the hospital in a separate car because there were too many of them to fit.

Tristan rose from the couch, stretching as he did. "I'm starving."

"There's a twenty in my purse. Bring your brother and sister." Chase immediately leapt up as Tristan shook Emma awake. As her kids left the room, Natara jumped at the chance to talk to her Mal privately. She ran her fingers through his hair, kissed his unresponsive lips, stroked his cold hands.

"I miss you," she whispered. "The kids miss you. We all miss you so much. When did you stop fighting? Why did you stop fighting?"

She laid her forehead against his and sighed. She knew he would want her to move on. She knew he would tell her not to fall into a depression. Their kids needed her. She was all they had, now. She kissed his lips again as tears rolled down her face and splashed on his cheeks.

"Goodbye, Mal" she whispers. "Goodbye, my love. My friend, my pain, my pride, my joy. Goodbye."

And she sits back in her chair, takes his hand in hers, and she waits.


End file.
